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JESUS 
AND THE JURY 


A living Faith for Living Men 


ASHLEY DAY LEAVITT 


Minister of Harvard Church 
Brookline, Massachusetts 


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THE PILGRIM PRESS 
BOSTON CHICAGO 





. Coprriaut, 1925 
Wve By SIDNEY A, WESTON 





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JESUS AND THE JURY 


I 


At the age of thirty Jesus crossed the threshold 
from the quiet years of preparation into his 
public ministry. At that time he had a deep 
conviction about himself and the,work he was 
to do which few if any shared. Just what form 
that conviction took at first, and the steps by 
which it grew through the years of his public 
life, may not be clearly set forth. It must 
have been present in some significant measure 
at the beginning. Something impelled him to 
set out on his mission. He who was to say, 
‘Ye have heard that it was said by them of old 
time . . . But I say unto you,” carried a con- 
viction of authority in spiritual matters that 


presumed a peculiar relation with God. 


inde) 


Would that authority ever be evident to other 
men? John, in truth, was to introduce him in 
the exalted terms of his own belief, but there 
was no reception committee to greet him, no 
eager band of followers awaiting his leadership 
on his own terms. ‘Neither did his brethren 


y] 


believe in him,” is a statement that appears 
in the record. 

Think of Jesus, then, beginning his work, 
when the very reason for it, and the basis of 
it, was a belief about himself which he held 
practically alone. His work was to be far 
more difficult than to teach certain truths in 
which he believed. He must awaken a belief 
in himself which would give him the spiritual 
leadership and authority which he claimed. 
The truth which he was to teach was not like 
the truth of a mathematical proposition which 
could stand regardless of the character of the 
man who taught it. His spiritual teaching was 
to center in his personality. His mission was 


not merely to reveal a truth, show a way, 


aw 


declare a life. He must make men see that 
he was the way, the truth, and the life. 

This was the supreme test of his life. It 
was not a lesson which he could teach by word, 
and which men could learn by rote. Men 
must see it, feel it, and believe in it with a 
sincere, spontaneous conviction which should 


be their very own. 


II 


One of the most significant things which he 
did at the very outset of his public ministry 
was to call a group of twelve men about him. 
There are evidences that he chose these twelve 
men deliberately with a great deal of care. To 
one and another he said, ‘‘Follow me.” They 
obeyed his call, knowing little about him, and 
having no clear conviction as to what he was 
and what he was about. 

Jesus’ calling of the twelve may be described 
as merely the gathering of a number of pupils, 
whom he was to instruct in the truth he desired 
to give to the world. Thus he would make 
them his helpers while he lived, and his suc- 
cessors to carry on his work after he had gone. 
But there is a deeper significance than such a 
description brings out, in his gathering this 


group to live with him in closest intimacy. 


[7] 


In calling the twelve, Jesus really impaneled 
a jury. He proceeded to live the evidence of 
his faith before them. He sought to win 
from them a verdict in support of his exalted 
claims. 

There is first the interesting coincidence that 
the number of his disciples was twelve, just the 
number of men on whose judgment we have 
long been accustomed to rely in all capital cases 
at court. There seems to be no account as to 
why there are twelve men in the traditional 
jury. Why not ten, or fifteen? It may be 
that Jesus himself popularized that number and 
gave it a real significance in the opinion of man- 
kind. Whatever its origin, it has come to be 
accepted as offering just the right possibilities 
of variety and diversity in point of view to in- 
sure a competent judgment. When a unani- 
mous verdict of twelve men has been won, 
it would seem that the matter in question 
has been settled. There is no need to go 
further. 


[ 8 ] 


The coincidence in the matter of number in 
case of the disciples and a standard jury is on 
the whole superficial. There are other and 


more striking parallels in the situation. 


[9] 


Ill 


As we consider the personnel of the group 
which Jesus called about him, we must be con- 
vinced that it was an ideal jury. It is just the 
kind of a jury that would be sought in any 
modern instance, where a life or a reputation 
might be at stake. The men whom Jesus chose 
were average men from the ordinary walks of 
life. They were all of them seriously occupied 
with the business of living. There were a few 
fishermen, small tradesmen. ‘There were prob- 
ably artisans of one kind and another. There 
was one man who held a small public office. 
Let us call the roll of this interesting group of 
men who were to sit in judgment in the most 
important case ever presented to a jury for 
their verdict. 

The first, Simon, who was called Peter, and 
Andrew his brother; James the son of Zebedee, 


Litony 


and John his brother; Philip and Bartholomew; 
Thomas, and Matthew the publican; James 
the son of Alphzeus, and Thaddeus; Simon the 
Cananean, and Judas Iscariot. How signifi- 
cant it is to call this list of names! A name is 
a personal thing. It stands for individuality. 
The Bible is a book of names, filled with stories, 
not of men, but of this particular man and 
that, expressing the force and flavor of distinct 
personalities. Here were twelve real men | 
who, considering the walks of life from which 
they came, the wide practical experience they 
had, were sure to bring to the problem before 
them a capacity for the truest kind of judgment. 

In his essay on popular culture, John Morley 
refers to an old saying, that ‘‘It is the end and 
aim of the British constitution to get twelve 
honest men in a box.”’ Of course it is the end 
and aim of the constitution of any enlightened 
people to preserve for them their inalienable 
rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happi- 


ness. For the most part this work is done con- 


lee Sieg 
structively without any thought of the need or 
uses of a jury. 

It is assumed that these rights will be pro- 
tected and extended. But the point is that 
when the rights of any man are attacked, or 
when he may stand in jeopardy for his life and 
liberty, then the bulwark of justice is the judg- 
ment of twelve good men and true. To such 
a group the appeal.is made and even the law 
waits on their verdict. 

What is the point of the jury, and of such 
juries as are proverbially sought in cases where 
life and liberty may be involved? It is that 
the truest and best judgment that may be 
obtained is the verdict of men whose point of 
view is not that of the specialist or the tech- 
nical expert, but that of the man who sees life 
whole from the standpoint of his own first- 
hand experience in the business of living. 

The specialist as a rule has narrowed his 
study of life to one particular phase. He 
probably knows that phase better than any 


[ 12 | 


jury of average men that could be assembled. 
But we feel sure that he is apt to be detached, 
and cannot see things in true proportion. He 
can do many things well. His services are 
always needed. When it comes, however, to 
judgment on such questions as the truth of 
statement, the sincerity of motives and the 
integrity of character, the civilized world passes 
by the expert and seeks the opinion of ordinary 
men. By ordinary men we simply mean those 
who are living in all of life’s normal relation- 
ships. They do not know theories of life. 
They do know the facts of living. Their judg- 
ment between right and wrong will often be an 
intuitive judgment, — a feeling about the truth, 
born of a practical knowledge of the value in 


all of life’s vital phases. 


[ 13 ] 


IV 


Ir has often been suggested that the time 
will come when small bodies of experts will take 
the place of the traditional jury in judging the 
character of men on trial. That day is long 
distant. Today the experts are merely allowed 
to testify before a jury. Even that occasions 
misgivings. Usually, as many can be massed 
on one side as on the other, whether the ques- 
tion be about brainstorms, complexes, or the 
relation of endocrines to moral responsibility. 
It is still held to be wise, after the learned spe- 
cialists have spoken, to let the jury decide how 
much truth there is in what has been said. 

_ Were your life at stake, were your character 
on trial you would not present your case for 
vindication to experts and specialists. You 
would use their help, but for final judgment you 


would pass them by. So far as you could trust 


[ 14 ] 


such an issue to any men, you would seek 
men who, out of a serious experience in living, 
would carry every question of the truth or 
falsity of speech or action, your own or the wit- 
nesses against and for you, back to the field of 
their own first-hand knowledge of life. Such 
men Jesus chose. Such men are chosen today 
when men come to judgment. 

When we come down to it, back of every 
other issue which those men had to weigh was 
the question of the plain honesty of Jesus. 
The men who came in contact with Jesus never 
questioned his ability. He knew what he was 
saying and doing. His sincerity in saying and 
doing what he did was clearly the point at 
issue. Jesus was to bear witness concerning 
himself. Was he a reliable witness? He made 
extraordinary claims about his truth. Was he 
telling the truth? 

This is a point which many of those who can- 
not accept Jesus on his own terms seem to miss 


altogether. There are those who ignore or 


[19 J 


deny certain of his claims and still profess to 
respect him. They even call him in as an 
authority in matters where they do agree with 
him. 

The contemporaries of Jesus who denied his 
claims did not shrink from the inevitable alter- 
native. They called him false. ‘‘He deceiveth 
the people.” Thus the enemies of Jesus were 
more honest than some of his self-styled friends 
of later years. There can be little doubt that 
when Jesus was personally present he forced 
- this issue. Any man would force that issue. 

Granted Jesus’ unusual ability and his ex- 
traordinary capacity for clear judgment, then 
the question of his fundamental honesty be- 
comes one of the greatest significance. We 
might hesitate over the capacity of the jury 
Jesus drew to interpret for us every phase of 
the truth he taught. We must feel that no 
better judgment could ever be found as to the 
integrity of his life and purpose. 


[ 16 | 


V 


Stitt another parallel in this story of the 
jury is the fact that Jesus did seek a verdict 
from his disciples. The evidence was pre- 
sented in a remarkable way. Most juries re- 
view situations after something has happened, 
or scenes are reenacted before them by the men 
who plead. The jury in Jesus’ case was on 
hand in the original situation. They followed 
and lived through the real scenes when he was 
demonstrating the truth or the falsity of his 
amazing claims. 

It is not fanciful to say that Jesus worked 
for a verdict from his disciples. Most of the 
things he did in the quiet demonstration of his 
faith were done before them rather than di- 
rectly to them. They were on hand to see and 
to hear. He did not declare to them, ‘This is 


the truth about me, which you must accept.”’ 


Fee 
He never tried to force them. He did try to 
lead them along the ways of understanding. 
Again and again with an appealing modesty he 
sought to read their hearts to see whether the 
conviction which he wanted to find was yet 
dawning within them. 

When many of his followers were turning 
their backs on him, he said to the twelve, ‘‘Will 
ye also goaway?” How tensely he must have 
waited for the reply. On another occasion he 
said, ‘‘Who do men say that Iam?’ He did 
not care about that. It was only his hesitating 
way of coming to the point about which he did 
eare. ‘‘Who say ye that Iam?’ That is the 
whole spirit of his dealing with the twelve. 
Not, “I say I am this or that’’; but, ‘‘Who 
say ye that I am?” 

On this occasion he received from Peter a 
reply that thrilled his soul, and set him exult- 
ing. He saw his work established, and the 
continuance of that work assured because an- 


other man had at least glimpsed the conviction 


19. 


that he had about himself. It was the fact 
that Peter saw it, and the certainty that he 
would sometime see it more clearly, and that 
they all would see it, that set his cause on foun- 
dations like rock. Surely if this inspired con- 
viction could come to Peter, it would come to 
others, and the gates of hell could never pre- 
vail against the faith he had brought to men. 

Peter’s glimpse of the truth was just a flash. 
It was premature. The verdict was not yet 
positive or unanimous. Jesus charged the 
twelve to say nothing more about it. More 
evidence must be lived and given. 

That jury made the remarkable record of 
following the case for three years before they 
reached the final verdict. Not all the evidence 
they heard was favorable. They heard men 
say that he was a gluttonous man and a wine- 
bibber, a man in league with the devil, one who 
deceived the people, that he was guilty of most 
awful blasphemy, a traitor, one worthy of 
death. 


[ 19 | 


The case was, in fact, seemingly taken out of 
their hands by a mob. Jesus was seized, 
arrested, and tried before another court, of 
ecclesiastical experts this time, condemned and 
put to death. All through this period they had 
no clear, courageous conviction about him. 
But all this was part of the evidence. It was 
the summing up, the final demonstration of his 
worth or worthlessness. When we consider the 
character of the verdict they rendered, we shall 
have to include in the evidence the remarkable 
experiences they themselves relate that came to 
them after Jesus’ death. It was then that their 
groping judgment was crystallized into power- 


ful conviction. 


[ 20 ] 


VI 


Tue twelve reached a verdict. It would be ~ 
a pity to try to reduce that verdict to a state- 
ment. No words signifying that Jesus is this 
or that can come anywhere near representing 
the character and power of the conviction which 
flamed in them at the conclusion of this re- 
markable case. They tried to put it into words. 
They claimed everything for this man with 
whom they had lived in unique relations for 
these three years. But it is the testimony of 
their lives which is most convincing. Their 
verdict was not a reasoned statement, but a 
living demonstration. It is the only sort of 
verdict that ever counts in connection with 
Jesus. 

One is tempted to say that their verdict was 
unanimous. Poor Judas with his tragic sui- 


cide, and his “I have betrayed innocent blood,” 


[ 21 | 


all but made it unanimous. A man like Judas 
does not kill himself because of some trifling 
mistake in judgment. What he saw in Jesus 
at the end made his act of betrayal impossible 
to bear. There have been other betrayers of 
Jesus, but who has ever shown a profounder 
remorse? | 

There was one impressive difference in the 
verdict they rendered which lifts it above the 
usual conclusions of juries. Always, when 
juries render a verdict they are through with 
the case. They are free to go back to their 
homes and attend to their business, to enjoy 
again the comforts of normal life. When this 
great jury rendered its verdict, the men who 
composed it had really just begun with the 
case. They proceeded to back their verdict 
with their lives, displaying a marvelous devo- 
tion to the cause of the man they had vindi- 
cated. 

They had had an extraordinary experience 


with a remarkable person. He had changed 


[ 22 | 


their thinking. He had made God real to 
them in entirely new terms. He had brought 
them to see new meanings in life. In short, 
he had brought life to them. They felt it all 
to be the most wonderful experience that could 
come to men. They were irrepressibly grate- 
ful for it. They set out to pass it on to others 
with the passion of men who have found a 
longed-for cure or have discovered a long-sought 
promised land. 

It would be interesting to call the roll of 
that jury, and to hear from each the story of 
all that was done in witness of the sincerity 
of their faith in Jesus. Probably all of them 
gave their entire lives with a full measure of 
heroic effort to advance the cause in which 
they believed so profoundly. ‘Tradition has it 
that many of them crowned years of courageous 
witnessing with the supreme sacrifice of life 
itself, happy to add what weight that sacrifice 
might be to their compelling faith. 

Who would not covet such a verdict? Just 


[ 23 ] 

such a judgment has never been rendered in 
any other case. Were they not twelve good 
men and true? Think again what kind of men 
they were. Practical men of the hard-working 
type. They had been brought up in the school 
of shrewd bargaining. They knew the value of 
commodities in the market. They knew the 
worth of money. They must have had large 
experience with knaves and charlatans. They 
were not men to throw away the meager com- 
forts of life for a dream or an idea. They came 
slowly and painfully to the conclusions that 
finally gripped them. Then they gave up 
everything and devoted their whole lives to 
prove how much they meant what they said. 

Does any one imagine that any appeal could 
ever have induced them to reconsider their 
verdict? Can any one imagine that any kind of 
evidence known to modern doubt or skepti- 
cisms could ever have made them reverse their 
verdict? No wonder that Jesus was willing to 
stake all his hopes on the kind of faith he 


[ 24] 


sought to evoke from such men as he knew 
them to be. 

He rested his case with them, and ever since 
their time his case has rested with such as they 
were. Paul once wrote ‘‘that not many wise 
men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many 
noble, are called.”’ Before we think that such 
words (and they do recite the facts of the his- 
tory of Christ’s cause) belittle the power of his 
appeal, let us remember it is just such judgment 
that any one of us would seek in any of the 


vital issues of justice and truth. 


[ 25 ] 


VII 


Ir might seem to be the obvious conclusion 
to this story that the appeal of Jesus will al- 
ways seek out and attract only the common 
men and women, a phrase that will never lack 
beauty and dignity since it was said that ‘‘the 
common people heard him gladly.” 

We are not left, however, solely with the 
thought of a distinction between one class of 
people and another. The distinction reaches 
into our individual lives. In every one of us 
there is the common man, the human being, 
seriously concerned with the business of living, 
feeling his kinship with all mankind. This man 
has the normal hopes and aspirations common 
to all who live genuinely. He has a feeling for 
justice, an instinct for truth. He wants things | 
to be right, and in a common-sense sort of a 


way believes that sometime he will find that 


[ 26 ] 


they are right if he only acts according to the 
best he knows. He is not fooled by pretense 
either in himself or in others. 

It is at the same time true that we are edu- 
cated away from this more human view and 
feeling about things. The most carefully trained 
mind may help tremendously in the business of 
real living. It also has its perils. It may set 
itself up as an expert, and usurp all the right to 
judge. It may check the instinctive hopes 
and convictions that are more a matter of in- 
tuition or affection; and because it fails to 
see the proof it demands, refuse to the rest 
of the life the freedom to express itself in the 
faith that attracts it like an inspiration from 


heaven. 
Sidney Lanier apostrophized his own genera- 


tion in these rather tragic words, 


“O Age that half believ’st thou half believ’st, 
Half doubt’st the substance of thine own half doubt, 
And, half perceiving that thou half perceiv’st, 
Stand’st at thy temple door, heart in, head out!” 


[ 27 | 

The situation which Lanier describes in that 
last line is unfortunate, and may be very un- 
happy. But it is not as unhappy as the situa- 
tion that usually prevails when there is a de- 
bate between the head and the heart. A half- 
believing, half-doubting, half-perceiving head 
often will not let the heart go into the temple 
at all. It bars the way, it keeps the life back 
from any act of worship so long as it is not 
satisfied with all the evidences of faith. 


[ 28 | 


VIil 


THERE is nothing right or reasonable in di- 
recting our lives that way. There is a saying 
of Chesterton that, while it is commonly said 
that the insane person is one who has lost his 
reason, as a matter of fact the insane person 
is one who has lost everything but his reason. 
He is more likely to be one who has kept his 
reason, but has lost his love, his humor, his 
sense of proportion, and all the checks, balances, 
and guides which the reason needs. 

The doubting and perplexed head should not 
only let the heart go into the temple, it ought 
to accompany it there, and wait reverently and 
with eager interest through the heart’s devo- 
tions. There will be food for thought, new 
clues to a truer understanding, as the reason 
follows the instinctive judgments of the soul. 
It. need not follow dumbly, but as the ally of 


[ 29 | 


faith to articulate and interpret what God may 
reveal. 

All the problems concerning Jesus were not 
settled for the disciples as they entered into 
their heroic work to make him known every- 
where. But meanwhile they were bound to 
him by a devotion that never wavered. Prob- 
lems enough awaited their heads, striving to 
keep pace with the daring visions and judg- 
ments of their faith. There is no real trouble 
in that. All men need the stimulus that comes 
from the challenge of perplexing and seemingly 
baffling questions. He who will not let his 
heart get out in front of his head lives on the 
. shores of a dead sea, where, if the tide never 
ebbs away, neither does it surge to the flood to 
start him over new seas of discovery. 

Our heads may always be perplexed. The 
reasons for faith may never seem adequate or 
clear. That is the stimulating atmosphere in 
which we ought to live. But the heart need 


not be troubled, if only we have the courage of 


[30%] 


our convictions. Great phrase that! Courage 
to render a verdict in accord with our convic- 
tions, and then to follow through with all there 
is of us to where that verdict leads. 

It is a great saying of Bishop Gore that ‘a 
man must be strong at the center before he can 
be free at the circumference of his being.’ 
You may think that in pledging your life ac- 
cording to the convictions of your heart you 
are making a slave of your mind. You are 
not. You are setting it free. You are giving 
it direction. Strong and loyal to the truth at 
the center of your being, you can be the freest 
of men in thought. The whole world of 
thought, the universe itself will beckon you to 
search out the hidden things. Meanwhile if 
you have the courage of your convictions, your 


heart need not be troubled. 


peeked 


IX 


EVERYONE knows Richard Watson Gilder’s 
little poem which for some reason or other he 
called ‘““The Song of a Heathen.” 


“Tf Jesus Christ is a man, — 
And only a man, — I say 
That of all mankind I cleave to him, 
And to him will I cleave alway. 


“Tf Jesus Christ is a God, — 
And the only God, — I swear 
I will follow him through heaven and hell, 

The earth, the sea, and the air!” 
Probably Gilder called those verses ‘““The Song 
of a Heathen” because he felt that by many 
people it would be considered a very inadequate 
profession of faith. Let us admit right here 
that we are as often led wrong by the experts who 
believe as by those who doubt. The latter will 
not let us ‘cleave’ until full proof has been 


bese id 


found for faith. The former will not let us 
“follow”? until faith is expressed in certain 
forms. 

Gilder’s ‘Song of a Heathen” is an ideal 
declaration of allegiance. Think of the tre- 
mendous problems left to be solved. ‘‘Is Jesus 
a man?’ “Ts Jesus Christ a God?” That 
question may challenge the mind for many a 
day, perhaps all one’s days. All expert knowl- 
edge, every special resource may well be 
brought to bear on that problem. 

While these questions remain to be worked 


over and worked out if possible, the matter of 


greatest importance is settled courageously, | 


splendidly. ‘“‘I will cleave to him,” and “T will 
follow him,” in either case. Jesus accepted his 
disciples on that basis. From that point, in 
his actual company, it took them three years 
to reach a positive verdict. If they had not 
begun at that point, if they had not followed 
him through those years when they did not 
understand all, if they had not been held by a 





[233i 


loyalty that had its roots deep among the in- 
tuitions of their hearts, they never would have 
come to their final verdict at all. 

Let us remember that this inspired judgment 
of the very human man is the soundest judg- 
ment there is in all the world. It does not 
mean giving way to the emotions. It is nota 
matter of being influenced unduly by sentiment. 
The fact is we may need to revise our whole 


idea of what enters into a true judgment. 


344 


x 


It is one of the happy results of the new 
spirit both in philosophy and science that the 
intellect is being put in its place. It is a very 
honorable place, but less than has often been 
claimed for it. There is a great deal of truth 
in this paragraph from a recent essay by G. A. 
Studdert Kennedy: ‘The popular idea is that 
men act upon reason and women act upon im- 
pulse. The truth is that men act upon im- 
pulse and discover an elaborate reason for it 
afterwards, while women act upon impulse and 
don’t bother about the reason at all.’ 

Then he writes more seriously: ‘““We are not 
born rational. We are born reasoning, which 
is a very different thing.” A true rational 
judgment in his mind must be the product of 
genuine experience, and is bound to be affected 
by the instincts and impulses that play a part 


in experience. He maintains that ‘‘a sublime 


[ 35 | 


and adequate religion’? can alone insure a 
rational judgment in any vital matter. 

Our truth-hunting adventures are not always 
sincere. At least they are not serious enough. 
There is no drive behind them, no compulsion 
growing out of conscious need. There are to- 
day people who are known as “parlor-com- 
munists”’ and “pink socialists.” In comfor- 
table places, far removed from the stress of 
the economic conflict, they play with the theo- 
ries of social revolution. For the real radical 
who is living through the thing, and to whom 
the injustices and inequalities of the social order 
are terribly real, we can have only respect. 
For the dilettante, content with “sipping the 
nectar of experience while he keeps aloof from 
its deeper interests,’ we have nothing but 
contempt. 

There are such people as parlor theologians 
and pink Christians. There is no chance that 
they will discover the truth, or know it if by 
chance they happen upon it. The faith Jesus 


[ 36 | 


gave to the world is a faith for living men. 
One must have the sincerity and earnestness 
begotten by a real experience in living if he is 
to find any clue to the meaning of faith. 

“Faith,” writes L. P. Jacks, “is neither a 
substitute for reason nor an addition to it. 
Faith is nothing else than reason grown cou- 
rageous — raised to its highest power, expanded 
to its widest vision. Its advent marks the 
point where the hero within the man is getting 
the better of the coward, where safety, as the 
prime object of life, is losing its charm and 
another object, hazardous but beautiful, dimly 
seen but deeply loved, has begun to tempt the 
awakened soul.” 

‘Another way of saying the same thing is 
to name religion the ‘new birth’ of the soul. 
But a new birth which, while changing all the 
rest of the man, left his reason unchanged, 
which turned all the rest of him into a hero, 
but kept him still reasoning with a coward’s 


logic, would not amount to very much.”’ 


Tac | 
‘‘Dimly seen but deeply loved.’”’ That surely 


means an impulse of the whole life, eager to 
live, dominating the reason with its enthusi- 


asm and its purpose. 


[ 38 ] 


XI 


RECALL Jesus’ characteristic appeals, ‘‘Come 
unto me, all ye that Jabor and are heavy laden.” 
“They that be whole need not a physician; 
but they that are sick.’”’ ‘I am not come to 
call the righteous but sinners to repentance.”’ 
Any one who knows Jesus’. mind knows that 
there are no ‘‘righteous’’ who need no repent- 
ance. It is impossible to escape the thinly 
veiled irony in those words. Jesus could do 
nothing for the men whose hands did not reach 
out for help. 

The Pharisees came to Jesus with their ques- 
tion about the baptism of John. It was a 
perfectly good question to which there was a 
clear, true answer. But Jesus did not answer 
it, because the questioners were not honestly 
committed to obey the truth, whatever it 
might be. 


[ 39 ] 


In one of Basil King’s stories there is the 
following interesting conversation between a 
young man, seeking to solve a difficult prob- 
lem, and an older man of whom he is seeking 
counsel. 

“ “The difficulty is,’ he said after a long 
silence, ‘that it’s often hard to know what is 
right.’ 

‘* “No, it isn’t.’ 

“The flat contradiction brought a smile to 
the young man’s lips, as they trudged onward. 

‘‘*A good many people say so.’ 

“£4 good many people say foolish things. 
It is hard to know what’s right chiefly when you 
are not in a hurry to do it.’ 

“ “But when you want to do it?’ 

“*You will know what it is. There'll be 
something to tell you.’ ... 

“But doesn’t it happen that what you call 
“something-to-tell you” tells you now and 
then to do things that most people would call 


rather wild or crazy?’ 


all. 


to 


[ 40 | 
‘*“T dare say.’ 
“So then what?’ 
““*Then you do them.’ 
“ “Oh, but’? — 
‘* “Tf there’s an ‘‘Oh, but,’ you don’t. That’s 


the few chosen.’ ”’ 


You belong to the many called, but not | 


[ 41 ] 


XII 


Ir all comes to this. Detached from the 
business of living, we have no impulse to carry 
us over into the truth when we see it. Faith 
in Jesus is not a puzzle. It is nota game. It 
will always be a problem for the mind. It is 
first of all an answer to life. It takes the 
whole of life, aroused to make the most of 
itself, to recognize the beauty and truth of 
that answer. 

In every one of us there is the man who lives, 
who learns from living, and to whom living is 
the supreme adventure. In his contacts with 
evil, before he has thought about evil in the 
abstract and become busy with theories about 
it, he instinctively feels that all evil is wrong, 
hideous, in every form hostile to his soul. 
When its stain is on his soul, he wants to be 


cleansed as from something foul and dirty. 


42. 


In his contest with evil, he knows he needs 
help from some spirit that can lift him up. 
Before him, always, he must have somewhere 
the vision of a life pure and unspotted from 
the world. 

The man in us, to whom actual living is the 
real thing, the divine and marvelous thing, this 
man in his contact with sorrow, before he has 
come to think much about the common lot of 
men or any stoic philosophy has come to re- 
press the protest of his soul, feels the poignant 
heartbreak in sorrow. He feels instinctively 
that there must be an answering pain in the 
heart of God, believes that sorrow calls for a 
comfort that is divine, and that all love denied 
here must have its fulfilment in God’s eternity. 

When a man gets away from his study and 
mere thinking, and goes out into the thick of 
life, then he responds to his fellows as brothers. 
‘Races,’ “‘lines,’ ‘‘threats of color’ depart 
from his mind. Then he has the instinctive 


democracy of a child. He sees himself in the 


[ 43 | 


other man’s place and the other man in his 
place. So he judges, if he must judge at all. 
The world of men is a brotherhood, only poten- 
tial as yet; but he is ready to acclaim the faith 
that can furnish the key to world-wide friend- 
liness. 

While with his cautious mind a man thinks 
about God, and his thoughts wander along 
many a futile trail, the living man hungers and 
thirsts for God. Alone, he believes he has a 
Father somewhere. Homeless, he knows he has 
a home. Out of his own need he is ready to 
respond to the love of God when it calls. 

It is not strange that hundreds of years 
before Jesus lived certain men, living close to 
their fellow men and the God they knew, made 
predictions of One who was to come, that have 
seemed supernatural in their character. They 
had but to consider the needs of their own lives, 
to read the story of the tragic failures and im- 
potencies of mankind with the never-dying 


dream of a life true and worthy; and then 


[ 44 | 
project their thoughts, inspired by faith, along 


the lines thus noted, to see them all converge | 
in the revelation God must make of himself to 
redeem and establish the life he had created. 

Before ever he came Jesus was prophesied 
out of the life of mankind. He was demanded 
as a symbol and an inspiration by a life striving 
to rise to higher levels. ‘These prophecies never 
named the man, nor fixed the hour of his birth, 
but when Jesus of Nazareth came he was seen 
as the fulfilment of that prophecy. 

Life that is real, life that will ‘‘dare the 
vision,’ — its face turned persistently from the 
clod, — asks such help from heaven; and be- 
hold, when Jesus comes clearly into view, sees 
in him the answer to its prayer. 

So to the living, very human, very needy and 
eager man in us, still close enough in touch with 
God to receive those flashes that come not by 
way of “flesh and blood,” Jesus appeals, I am 


your way, your truth, your life. Follow me. 


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